Chance Meeting
by Darkover
Summary: A chance meeting takes place in the Last Homely House.


8

Title: "Chance Meeting"

Author: Darkover

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,664

Disclaimer: The characters of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Hobbit" were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me. I am not pretending otherwise, I am respectfully borrowing the characters created by him in order to create a new story. Please do not sue.

Summary: A chance meeting takes place in the Last Homely House.

~ooo0ooo~

_I would be happy just to stay here and go no further, I believe, _Bilbo Baggins thought contentedly, as he walked leisurely along the corridors of the Last Homely House. _Meeting Elves is enough of an adventure for me, and Master Elrond and his folk are so hospitable that I don't even miss Bag End! Pity Gandalf and Thorin are so determined to go on and face the dragon—_

Turning a corner, he found himself viewing a reminder that there were things even worse than dragons.

He did not at first take much notice of the statue, as it and the shards of the broken sword it bore on display were meant to be viewed by people of the height of adult Elves or Men, not hobbits. But the mural that covered the wall directly across from the statue was startling in both its beauty and its subject matter, as doubtless it was meant to be. A great warrior held the remnants of a shining sword in one hand, wielding it defiantly at a great, dark, ominous figure that loomed over him. The figure—it did not appear to be a Man, and clearly it was no Elf—was not hideous, but still, Bilbo could scarcely stand to look directly at it. There was something subtly terrifying about it. The painting was beautiful, even mesmerizing, but unnerving, too.

Thinking out loud, Bilbo said; "I wonder who the figures in this painting are? Or are they not supposed to be anyone in particular, just representatives of Good and Evil, reminding us that Evil must always be resisted?"

"That's Isildur against the Dark Lord," a clear voice said.

Bilbo turned, surprised, as he had believed himself to be the only one around. The speaker was a child, a small boy, although "young" might have been a better term, the hobbit mentally amended, as the youngster was taller than he was, although not by much. The boy was dark of hair, with intelligent grey eyes, a clear complexion, and a bright smile. Seeing the boy surprised Bilbo all over again, for it occurred to the hobbit that this was the first child he had seen in all of Rivendell. Bilbo wondered how old the boy was; estimating the age of hobbit-children was one thing, but estimating the age of an Elf-child was quite another.

What Bilbo said out loud was, "Isildur? The son of Elendil?"

The boy nodded. "The elder of his sons. With his brother Anarion Isildur founded the kingdom of Gondor," the lad said, as if reciting a lesson. "This painting is of Isildur fighting the Dark Lord Sauron during the Last Alliance, when Elendil and Gil-galad were slain." Gazing at the painting, the boy sighed wistfully. "Isildur was a great hero! I should like to be a hero, doing great deeds and having adventures."

"Oh, I don't know," Bilbo said. "Adventures leave a lot to be desired. I'm on one just now, and the meals here at the Last Homely House are the only good ones I've had since leaving home. And it's the first time I've slept in a bed since I left my hobbit-hole, too."

"But you are going to see a dragon!" the boy said excitedly. "At least, that is what I heard Gandalf telling _Ada,_ and what can compare to that?"

"Gandalf was talking to your _Ada?_ Who is your father, lad?"

The boy colored slightly. "Forgive me, sir, I forget my manners. I am Estel Elrondion." He actually bowed, in a surprisingly courtly fashion. "Welcome to the Last Homely House."

Bilbo returned the bow. "I am Mister Bilbo Baggins, at your service, Estel, and at your family's." But as the lad stood upright again, just before his dark hair fell back into place, Bilbo glimpsed that the lad's ears were round, rather than tapering off into delicate points like those of the Elves. And the lad had just informed Bilbo that Master Elrond was his father. But Bilbo had learned from an earlier conversation with Erestor, an Elf who was Steward over the household, that Master Elrond's wife had sailed for Valinor long before—far too long for her to be the mother of a child as young as this. Moreover, the rounded ears suggested mortal blood. _Unless I am very much mistaken, this lad is not an Elf. What is he doing here? Has Master Elrond adopted him? If so, why would an Elf-lord adopt a mortal child? Who are you __**really,**__ young Estel? _

"I love this painting," Estel confided. "I think the battles of the Last Alliance were so interesting, although _Ada _and Glorfindel do not like to talk about it much." He sighed and gazed wistfully at the mural. "I should so much like to have seen it! Isildur was so brave, cutting the One Ring from the hand of Sauron—"

"Estel!" a masculine voice interrupted, authoritatively but not unkindly. Boy and hobbit both turned their heads as Master Elrond, accompanied by Gandalf, approached them. "I know you are fond of this painting, but you must not bore our guest in talking too much of the past." The Elf-lord smiled at the lad and gently ruffled the dark hair, but Master Elrond's eyes also seemed to hold a hint of warning. Gandalf looked intently at the boy, and then at Bilbo, his grey eyes thoughtful.

"Not at all, Master Elrond!" Bilbo assured his host. "Estel is a most interesting conversationalist, and clearly quite well-read, too, especially for one so young. How old is the lad?"

"I am nine, Mr. Baggins," the boy said proudly, as if being nine was a personal achievement. He then added eagerly, "I wish I were going with you on your adventure! I should like to be a hero someday!"

Something—Anxiety? Sadness?—crossed the handsome, strangely un-aged face of the Lord of Rivendell, as he said; "That remains to be seen, Estel. Now, I believe Erestor is waiting for you. You don't want to be late for lessons, do you?"

Judging by the lad's expression, he would not have minded in the least being late, but his response was a dutiful; "No, _Ada_."

"Good. And as I wish to speak to Erestor, I shall walk with you." Master Elrond put his arm around the boy's slender shoulders. "Say goodbye to our guests."

"Goodbye, Mithrandir. Goodbye, Mister Baggins," the boy said politely. "It was nice to be able to speak with you."

"And you too, Estel," Bilbo said. "Thank you for showing me the painting and telling me about it."

As the lad and his father started off down the corridor, Estel suddenly turned his head and added mischievously, "But I still wish I could go with you, Mr. Baggins!"

The hobbit and the wizard both chuckled as father and son turned a corner and disappeared from view.

"A good lad," Bilbo said appreciatively. "Good manners, and so bright and well-educated, although of course one would expect that of a son of Master Elrond." He looked up at Gandalf. "If, of course, that is truly who the boy is."

"What do you mean, Bilbo?"

"Gandalf, I am no expert on the Big Folk or their offspring, but handsome as the lad is, I don't believe he is an Elf. I can't help but wonder who he really is and what he is doing here—"

The wizard's bushy eyebrows contracted, and he glared down at Bilbo. "Bilbo Baggins, I know that expecting a hobbit to lack curiosity is like expecting a dragon to lack avarice, but you really must learn to mind your own business."

"What did I say? I only—"

"Bilbo," Gandalf interrupted, and his tone was simultaneously so sharp and so earnest that the hobbit paid attention. "Master Elrond has been a very good host to you and the rest of Thorin's company, I am sure you will agree. You can repay him by showing a bit of discretion. There are a great many evils in this world, and Smaug is only one of them. Master Elrond lost his beloved wife to such evil. Since then, he is most protective of his family, and does not wish any of them to be talked about outside of Rivendell. I want you to forget you ever met the boy, understand? Never mention him again. In fact, I believe it would be wise if you did not see or speak with Estel again while you are here."

Bilbo was astonished, but he knew from the intensity of Gandalf's tone and the fierce look the wizard was giving him that Gandalf meant every word he was saying. "Yes, just as you say," he answered hurriedly.

"Good. Now, I believe it is almost time for dinner." Gandalf's stern features suddenly relaxed into a smile. "I'm sure no hobbit would think of being late for that."

"Of course not!" Bilbo said, brightening. But as they moved away from the statue and the mural, the hobbit could not resist glancing back at the painting for one last look.

_I wonder what this Ring was that Estel mentioned? The one Isildur has cut from the hand of the Dark Lord in this painting? Obviously, I can't ask the boy about it or about anything else—Gandalf has made that clear. Still, it was all a long time ago. I don't suppose it matters now. After all, it could hardly make a difference to my own adventure! _

Bilbo's stomach rumbled, and all thoughts about either the painting or Estel fled before his hunger. Turning, he hurried to catch up to the wizard.


End file.
